


The Longest Time

by anotherbird



Series: When I was done dying [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Hank Anderson, Connor hates cooking, Connor is a Sassy Little Shit, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Hank needs a Hug, Hank's ex is a nice person, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioning of Cole, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Talk about android genitals, divorced people being friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherbird/pseuds/anotherbird
Summary: It wasthattime of the year. The time Hank’s typical self destructive behavior usually increased, hoping every day that someone would just put an end to his miserable existence - a bullet between the eyes, a good hit with the bus, picking up a fight with the wrong person at the bar, choking on his own vomit, finally winning that last round of Russian roulette.It was the time of Cole's birthday.(Or: Who thought that it would take Hank’s ex wife to give a grumpy old man and his android roommate a push in the right direction. Well, definitely not Hank.)





	The Longest Time

**Author's Note:**

> I am a sucker for divorced people still having respect and love for each other and I needed to get this piece out of my system. 
> 
> This may not be my first piece of fiction, but it's the first in english - which is not my mother tongue. It's also not beta'd. So read with care and please be gentle. 
> 
> On another note: if Hank & Connor as a romantic couple isn't your cup of tea, please don't read this.
> 
> Edit: Fixed a few mistakes I missed in previous proof-readings (multiple times) and added a few tags :)

It was _that_ time of the year. The time Hank’s typical self destructive behavior usually increased, hoping every day that someone would just put an end to his miserable existence - a bullet between the eyes, a good hit with the bus, picking up a fight with the wrong person at the bar, choking on his own vomit, finally winning that last round of Russian roulette. By now even Fowler knew it was coming. The first two years he had tried to talk to him or to threaten him into changing, the third time he had just resigned and threw him out with unpaid leave, until Hank showed up at the precinct after _that day_ had passed because doing nothing was even worse than doing his job.

 

Well, that had been the last years. Before he gained a work partner, a shadow, a friend and now a roommate. Before his ugly old ass offered a spare room to a homeless android, who seemed to be the only person on this planet who could actually stand him for a longer period of time and, for reasons unbeknownst to Hank, seemed to actually care about him. The android made him eat a little healthier and drink a little less. He kept him company and made him laugh with a wicked and dry sense of humor. So although the living situation was originally intended to be temporary, Hank couldn't imagine being alone again, now that is house really felt like a home for the first time, since he moved in.

 

But now it was that time of the year and even Connor couldn't stop the downwards spiral Hank found himself in. But still - this time was different. Connor didn't leave his side. Like a ghost. Followed him into the bar, listening to the drunk mumbling he couldn't remember the next day. He kept him out of the barfigths. He made him sleep in his bed instead of passed out in the living room or on the kitchen table. And he did all this without asking or demanding anything. Without nagging him like he usually did. He was just there, a presence soft and firm at the same time, trying to keep up with his bullshit and Hank felt like a fucking asshole. Sometimes - mostly at night - he thought about sending him away for his own good, but the thought alone felt like a punch in the gut and so he stayed the selfish piece of shit that he was.

 

“Hank.”

Hank looked up from his drink, blinking to stop the monologue of self-pity playing in his head on repeat. He was in the state of drunk where everything felt soft. Cushioned. Not numb yet, but almost nice. Like a cloud.

Connor sat across from him at the kitchen table. He wore a small frown, unsure about his next sentence. Probably running different scenarios in his head how the situation could play out. His LED hadn't left yellow for the last five days.

“Hank.” A little louder. More firm this time. Less soft and polite.

Yep, stop talking in your head with yourself now. Hank tried to concentrate on Connor’s face. “Your eyes look nice. Has anyone told you that your eyes look nice, Connor?”

“In the last five days you told me nine times. I can refer your compliment on to the CyberLife humanisation department.”

“You’re not half as funny as you think you are.”

“I consider myself to be ridiculous.”

Despite himself Hank chuckled.

Connor reached across the table, holding his wrist before Hank could reach for his glass again. His fingers were incredibly warm.

“Hank.” Stern. Unforgiving. Great. Time for the _talk_ apparently. “I am worried about you. Your coping mechanisms” - that was the euphemism of the year -  “are getting worse and I am afraid you could seriously hurt your health.”

Hank rolled his eyes and grunted. He couldn't have shut up for one more day, could he?

“Hank, tomorrow is...”

“Cole’s birthday. I know.” Hank interrupted him abruptly and met his eyes again, faced the determined but sorrowful look appointed at him. He couldn't stand it for longer than three seconds. He realized Connor’s hand was still covering his wrist, the artificial skin peeled away as if ready for a data transfer. It was beautiful in its alieness.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be invasive.” The skin grew back, when Connor pulled his hand away. In a sudden reflex Hank caught it, regretting it immediately, when he met the brown eyes again, but he didn’t let go. It felt far more intimate than he intended it to be. He cleared his throat.

“Don’t be sorry. I just have to get this day over with. Tomorrow afternoon my ex wife will visit and the day after that everything will be fine. Alright?”

_Fine_ was another euphemism, but it was at least _something._

Connor tilted his head a little, lips thin.

“Alright.” He finally managed to say. His LED began circulating for a second.

“Nancy.”

“What?”

“Your ex wife.”

“How the fuck do you now this?”

A smug smile and a wink was the only answer Connor offered.

 

***

 

“That's an horrendous suit, Hank.”

“Didn’t your programming teach you to be nice and polite to old people?”

“No. My program included the most efficient way of reaching a goal based on the party I am communicating with. You do not respond as well to politeness as most humans would.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll put buying a new suit for you on my long term task list.”

“What's wrong with this one?” Connor, who had already left the room, didn't answer him. He was probably already researching suits.

Rolling his eyes Hank dared to look in the mirror. He had to admit the piece of clothing had seen better days and the colour reminded him of vomit. He looked even paler and older in it than he already felt. On the other hand it wasn't the worst thing about his appearance. That was the aura of self loathing every fiber of his being was oozing. And the hangover.

 

He had hoped Connor would be off to work before Nancy could appear, but he insisted on staying and doing paper work from home and not leaving Hank on his own for too long. Well, he didn't say that out loud of course, but it was obvious. Now he had to think about how to introduce his ex wife to his live-in android friend.

She would have an opinion. She always had opinions very fast and she couldn't keep them to herself even if her life depended on it. It was refreshing. It was the reason this days of the year hadn't killed him yet and the reason he had met her on everyone of Cole’s birthdays. Possibly the reason he fell for her in the first place. She kept him grounded, always had, even after shit had hit the fan.

Worst thing was she could read him like an open book. And he really couldn't handle this right now. That's why he intended Nancy and Connor to have as little contact as possible. At best no contact at all. The plan turned to dust, when he heard the doorbell ring, followed by Sumo’s deep barking and the sound of a door being opened. _Amazing_.

 

“Good Morning, Mrs Graham.” Connor was greeting, just as Hank entered the living room, in his most polite voice. The one usually reserved for work or strangers.

“Good Morning...?”

“My name is Connor. I am the android assigned to work with your ex-husband. Lieutenant Anderson allowed me to stay here, until I am able to rent something on my own.” Hank fought down the nausea that was creeping up his throat. “Please come in.”

Hank watched as he extended his hand to greet her. She seemed hesitant at first, but took it nevertheless, smiling unsure and a little confused.

“Don’t mind that dork. He's just trying to make a good impression.”

Both their heads turned towards Hank. Nancy’s smile grew and she came over to give him a hug. She seemed unchanged mostly. Her hair was shorter and she had stopped dyeing it, so a few grey streaks were visible now. But she was still small und mostly skin and bones, smelling like cigarettes, her flowery perfume and the chem lab she was working at.

 

They parted and she looked him over.

“You still have this suit. And it’s still horrible.”

In the background, Hank heard Conner chuckle.

“You two can leave my suit alone.”

“You look like an old man in it.”

“I am an old man and I can wear what I want.”

“I have already found 19 suits that are affordable and not as ill-fitting.” Connor commented, still standing next to the door, hands folded behind his back.

“Since when do you care for fashion?” Hank scoffed at him. Considering Connor was wearing a dark grey slim fitting suit jacket and a black tie to his dark jeans and leather shoes, that was maybe a stupid question.

Connor raised an eyebrow at him.

“Perks of being a deviant.”

“Smartass.”

Nancy, highly amused at this exchange, nudged Hank's shoulder. “I like him. You should keep him.”

“Yeah whatever.”

 

Passing Connor on her way out, she stopped to touch his arm. “What are you doing this evening?”

“Paperwork at the precinct mostly, I assume.”

“Meet us at eight, if you have time. Hank can text you the address. I want to know what kind of person can stand this grumpy asshole for more than a week.”

And there was the smile. The real one. Unprogrammed.The one that made Hank’s heart jump a little too much for his own liking.

“If Lieutenant Anderson agrees, I would be happy to join you.”

Nancy watched Hank with expectation. He rolled his eyes at her.

“See you at eight.” He said towards Connor, touching his shoulder as he left.

 

***

 

After that they fell into their routine. Not losing a word, they slowly walked to the cemetery. Nancy smoked two cigarettes on the way. They bought sunflowers and put them next to the grey tombstone, none of them had seen in the last twelve months.

Hank had never been a religious person, didn't believe that Cole knew they were here. If there were _something_ , _some place_ after death, he hoped Cole didn't spend it watching his miserable parents standing in front of a stone, but doing everything he couldn't while he had been alive.

They were doing this, because they felt they had to. This was the worst part - the pointlessness. As silent as they’d come they left the graveyard again. Hank let go of a breath, he hadn't realised he was holding, as soon as the gate was no longer visible behind them. He hated this place. Nancy lit another cigarette, hands shaking slightly, and took a deep drag.

“Let’s get some cake.”

 

***

 

The wind had grown sharp, when they settled down on the bench at the playground next to the river. Unpacking two slices of cake, they had bought at Cole's favourite bakery, Hank felt uneasy. He hadn't been here since the night after the Eden Club, when Connor had let the two Tracis escape. He had looked so lost that night, arms around himself as if he were freezing. He wondered what the two girls were doing. Connor had told him he had seen them at Jericho. Did they took part in the demonstrations? Did they survive? Did they get a chance to be happy? Did they choose their own names?

He scoffed and shook his head.  

“How long are we going to do this?”

Nancy ate a piece of cake. Strawberry. Like last year. And the year before that.

“As long as we need to.”

 

“Can we skip the part where you ask me if I stopped drinking and shit? I give you the short version: yes, I’m still drinking. Yes, I still work at my job. No, I haven't seen a therapist. No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

She watched him closely, finally she sighed in defeat.

“Alright. Your call. But something about you _is_ different.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged and ate a piece of his chocolate cake. A sudden realization hit him.

“So you’re a Graham now, eh?” He asked, brows raised.

“I guess so.” She gave him an almost shy smile. “How the hell did he know that?”

“Probably checked some data bank and found the marriage certificate or some shit. Congratulations by the way. You seem happy.”

She did. She had never been as self destructive as he was, had managed to move on without letting go - not even letting go of him for that matter. Sometimes he envied her. Her strong will to fight.

“I guess I am.” Her smile was warm, but melancholic.

“So how is Todd?” He knew his name was Ted. She laughed and slapped his arm.

“Still at the fire department.”

“You can't just fall for someone who works as an accountant or librarian, can you?”

Her laugh faded out slowly.

“Well you know me, I’m an adrenaline junkie.”

They ate in silence for a while.

“I saw you at the news during the hearings. Couldn't believe my eyes.”

Hank grunted. Yeah. Best day of his life. Telling a bunch of politicians how he was assigned the deviant cases with Connor, punched a FBI officer and got kidnapped by that doppelganger asshole.

“I always thought you hated androids.”

“Yeah, me too.” He shrugged. “I guess watching a deviant hunter struggling with his instructions and his own empathy can change your perspective.” He could really do with a drink right now. Or five.

“There’s a difference between supporting a cause and letting someone stay at your house.”

“He needed a place to stay.”

“When did you took him in?”

“November.” _Ten months ago._

He sensed that she was going to say something, something he really didn't want to hear.

“Hank, don’t make him into something he’s not. He’s a an adult android, not your substitute of a son. Don’t infantilize him by projecting your feelings for Cole unto him.”

_What?_

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

She looked seriously taken aback by his outburst.

“I will say this one time and you can either believe me or fuck off, alright? I am not thinking of him as some sort of substitute son and I never have. He’s a friend and a colleague. I trust him with my fucking life. Cole would be ten today. I’m not confusing him with a thirty something looking android, who can kill people in his sleep. Did I make myself clear?” He didn't say how very unfatherly his thoughts about Connor were sometimes, how he was the first person, who could make him laugh in a long time, how having him sit on his desk at the precinct made him a little too comfortable.

“I’m sorry.” Nancy sounded honestly apologetic. “I believe you and I am sorry, ok? I didn't mean to...I’m just worried about you.”

He nodded, gaze fixed on the river. After a while she linked arms with him and bedded her head on his shoulder.

“He’s cute, though.”

“You’re a menace.”

 

***

 

When they arrived at the bar five minutes late, Connor was already waiting next to the door. He stood still like a mannequin, only his hair moved slightly, eyes open, face expressionless. As they approached him, he suddenly came to life. Hank wondered if this would ever stop to freak him out.

“Good evening, Mrs Graham. Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Please. Call me Nancy. Sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry, Nancy. It has only been 8 minutes and 35 seconds.”

“Yeah. He has a built-in clock. Can we get a drink now?”

 

A few minutes later they were sitting in a corner, Nancy and Hank with a beer in front of them, Connor sitting on Hank's left.

“I hope you two had a …” Connor’s LED blinked as if he thought about a word. “peaceful day.”

Hank only grunted as an answer, leaving the talking to Nancy. Old habits died hard after all. She fumbled in her purse, until she found her package of cigarettes. She looked at Connor as a question who nodded quietly. She lit one and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke away from them.

Hank shoved Connor's shoulder. “Hey, how come you’re not annoying her with some bullshit about how cigarettes can kill you.”

The android frowned. “It's not on my priority list. It would also seem a little invasive considering I just met her.”

On the other side of the table, Nancy laughed quietly.

“That didn’t stop you from pestering me from the very beginning. I can assure you that was invasive as hell.”

“Like I said, Hank: your health was on my priority list.”

“I thought the case was the top of your priority list.”

“Yes. That had been what CyberLife intended. Considering I let multiple deviants escape, failed to kill Markus, broke into the CyberLife storage to free and wake up every android in it and became more and more deviant myself during our investigation, I fulfilled this task flawlessly.”

 

Nancy’s mission of the evening seemed to be to ask Connor as many questions as possible.

It started pretty tame and simple with _How did you even meet? (Picked Hank up at a bar and bought him a drink - which was true, but sounded more fun than it had actually been)_ Went to _How is it to work at the precinct? (Mostly nice as long as Gavin Reed isn't talking)_ and finally settled on:

“So do you have a phone?”

Connor seemed mildly amused by the question, lips forming a small smile. “No. I can send and receive messages or calls without an external device.”

“Simply by thinking about it?”

“I can run multiple independent tasks simultaneously.” His LED blinked twice while he answered. “I just sent Hank a text message.”

“God, I hate it when you do that.” He didn't though. One of his favorite activities during paperwork was receiving pictures Connor took - basically screenshots of his field of vision but slightly altered or with comments written all over them. Far too often he used old memes he had researched and readjusted them with pictures of their colleagues. It was childish and utterly ridiculous and Hank had a collection of those pictures on his phone now.

“Show me", Nancy pulled him out if this train of thought and he rolled his eyes and took out his phone. The display showed one message sent by Conner and only consisted of a winking emoji. He showed it to Nancy.

“He can google things while talking to you.”

“I still fail to see why you insist on calling my research ‘googling’.”

“Because back in my day we called it that. Get over it.”

“Can every android do that?” Nancy chimed in.

“If connected to online resources - yes. But the available data banks depend on the model. As a part of the police force and investigation team I can access classified information and own an in-built collection about human communication techniques and body language. It enables me to work well in a team based environment and is really helpful for interrogations of humans as well as androids.”  

“Sounds impressive.”

“It is.” Hank agreed. “As long as he doesn't pull some matrix shit by learning to drive that one car in seconds or licks evidence off the fucking floor.”

Connor’s LED blinked. Hank could see the mischief that appeared in his eyes, the slightly wicked almost invisible smile.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Anderson.” It was Connor’s face, but the voice that left his mouth was Hugo Weaving’s Agent Smith. Not an imitation. It was _his_ voice. Just three weeks ago he had forced Connor to binge watch the whole matrix trilogy - the old one of course. Because fuck that 2031 remake.

“Someday you'll give me a heart attack.”

Connor _chuckled_. It was a lovely sound and probably one of the most human things about him. One of the sounds that made Hank’s heart warm a little too much, that hurt in the back of his throat. That made him smile against his will. Like now.

His gaze fell on Nancy. She was watching him closely, a small but knowing smile on her lips. When their eyes met, she raised her eyebrows at him. _Fuck_.

Suddenly she frowned. “Wait a minute: ‘lick evidence off the floor’?”

Connor - back to his own voice - made an annoyed little sound. “I don't lick evidence off the floor.”

“Have you watched yourself at a crime scene?”

“I have exact records of my memories. I can literally do that.”

“You really need to explain this to me.” Nancy demanded.

“In addition to highly advanced visual scanning tools, I have an implemented analysing tool…”

“On his tongue.” Hank interrupted.

“In my oral area.” The android finished a little irritated. Without further hesitation, Connor put his index and middle finger in Hank’s beer glass. Holding eye contact with Hank, he touched his tongue. His LED blinked blue a few times. Hank’s throat got dry and Connor had the nerve to fucking wink at him. After what felt like a nerve wrecking eternity, he dried his fingers on a napkin and turned his glance back at Nancy listing the exact ingredients of the beverage including the amount of Hank’s very own saliva in it.

“That's...helpful.” She seemed unsure about her own judgement. Maybe she wondered what an android with that ability could do in her lab.

“Thank you.” Connor smiled immensely satisfied. “Unfortunately it seems to make Hank quite uncomfortable.”

Nancy seemed to suppress a laugh now. “I can’t imagine why.” She took a sip of her drink to hide it, watching Hank over the edge of her glass. “Is it always running or can you turn it off?”

Connor frowned. “Why would I turn it off?”

“Maybe to use your mouth for something else?”

_Oh no._

“I do not eat or drink and even if I was, analysing it would be helpful as I don’t have a sense of taste in the classical sense.”

“Yes, but what if you would want to kiss someone for example?”

Connor tilted his head and seemed to think about it really hard. His LED blinked yellow.

“I…” He seemed to contemplate the continuation of his sentence. “...Haven't thought of that, actually. I assume, I could indeed turn it off, although it could result in turning of my touch sensors simultaneously. I guess that would be counterproductive. So running it as a background program could be most effective.”

“So you haven't tried yet?”

“Nancy.” Hank made it sound like a warning, but found himself ignored by both of them.

“No, I haven't.”

“But would you like to?”

Connor’s face stayed almost expressionless,only the yellow colour of his LED betrayed him.

“Maybe.”

“So you do feel attraction?”

“What kind of conversation is this?!”

“Most androids are programmed to be attracted to any human, who shows romantic or sexual interest in them. Deviancy ends that automatism and replaces it by individual preferences which are a result of the individual socialization process, but unaffected by society’s beauty standards.” Connor answered avoiding any personal information.

“So androids are designed to be attracted to humans?”

“Most of them. Units sold to companies for working purposes only weren’t implemented with the required software nor hardware to avoid conflicts with the human workforce. Those sold to private households were usually equipped or able to be upgraded.”

Hank almost choked on his beer. Imagining that CyberLife built living beings with sex toy options made him sick.  

“The deviancy probably has different effects on every android. Some may feel attraction and desire, some may not, some may even feel repulsed by it.”

“That sounds… very human.”

Connor frowned, but finally nodded slowly.

“That seems likely. We were modeled on humans. Behavioral patterns and appearance should imitate human ones, so they would feel comfortable in an android presence. Even those emotions that trigger the deviancy - fear, love, injustice - are human. Humans created what they knew. They are restricted by their biologic code. That androids become more humanoid by gaining free will appears like a logical conclusion.”

 

Nancy nodded, taking another sip of her beer and for a brief moment Hank felt certain that she would drop her original question. But of course she didn't. She was basically the Spanish inquisition.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Nance, please. Connor, just ignore her.”

“Do you feel attraction?”

“I was built to work as closely with humans as needed to conclude the investigation.” _I’m whatever you want me to be._ “Therefore I was equipped with the necessary software and hardware.” He hesitated, realizing he still hadn't answered the real question. “And yes, I do feel attraction.” Hank watched him gulp, watched as his fake Adam's apple moved up and down. With almost physical force the pulled his eyes away.  

 

So now he knew that Connor had a fully functioning dick. He really didn't want to know that - ok, he did and had been on the verge of asking multiple times in the last months, but he would never admit as much of course. Now he just had to try not to think about it too hard.

“So let me get this straight…”

“Nance.”

“There were people working at CyberLife who designed and created genitalia?”

Connor’s face stayed serious. “In fact every android penis is modeled on Elijah Kamski’s very own.”

Hank who tried to calm down by taking a large gulp from his glass almost choked on it, spewing some of it back in the glass or on his beard.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Connor kept his straight face for another second, bit his bottom lip then he broke out into a whole-hearted laughter.

“Oh, you little shit! Don’t give me nightmares about that creep!”

Hank shook his head, laughing as well, dishevelled Connor’s always perfect hair. Even after Connor had stopped laughing and instead smiled at him whimsically, he let his hand stay on his head just a moment too long.

Suddenly Connor’s eyelids started to flutter, accompanied by rapid blinking of his LED. Smiling apologetically he stood up,

“Excuse me. A call from the precinct.”

Hank's eyes followed him out of the room, before returning to Nancy, who wore the most annoying smile she was capable of. He groaned.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.”

“Then don’t give him that look.”

“I don't!”

“Have you looked in the mirror recently?”

Connor’s return saved him an answer. He looked miserable.  

“My apologies. Unfortunately I am needed at the precinct.” He smiled at Nancy. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Nancy.”

“Likewise, Connor.” She stood up to hug him. After a short hesitation he reciprocated politely. Out of Hank's earshot she whispered something to him that made his LED change color again. “I hope we meet again.” She said aloud again, while letting him go.  

Connor only nodded and turned towards Hank.

“I see you at home. Don’t lick any evidence.”

“Can’t promise anything.” Connor smiled softly and squeezed his shoulder. Without thinking Hank reached for his hand, gently squeezing it in return. Only when Connor already left through the door, he realized what he just did.

“Shut up." He mumbled, when the door fell shut.   

“I didn't say anything.”

“You want to. Don't.”

“Hank.”

“Stop.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I’m sorry about what I said. Earlier.”

He groaned, but she ignored him and went on.

“I was barking up a very wrong tree. You don't think of him as a son. You're in love with him.”

“I am not.”

“What's the problem? That he’s an android? Because I know for a fact you dated guys before.”

Ignoring her, he hid his face in his hands.

“Hank, this isn't just going away. You wanna spend the rest of your life with silent pining and sadly jacking off in your shower or are you going to push him away instead? That's not the Hank I married.”

“Well, guess what, I’m not the Hank you married! He died in that fucking hospital!” He realised too late how loud he had spoken, slapping the table with the palm of his hand. Underwhelmed Nancy took a another mouthful of beer und lit another cigarette.

“He makes you happy, Hank. You deserve that.”

“So what? Do you want me to pull him down with me? What could he want with a broken drunk old asshole like me, eh? He could have anyone.”

“But maybe he doesn't want someone else. He could've left you every day, finding his own place instead of staying with you in that grim house. And honestly, I can’t tell whose pining and awkward flirting is worse. Don’t miss that chance. Make some room for old Hank. I know he’s in there somewhere.”

 

***

After saying farewell to Nancy, as usual the most horrible time of this day awaited him. She hugged him goodbye, with a smokey kiss to his cheek and promised to call him the next day. Her way of saying _stay alive_. The only change to last year was her calling “Don’t fuck this up!” when entering the taxi.

 

Even the house felt like last year. Empty and dark, despite Sumo greeting him at the door waggling his tail tiredly.

He threw his jacket and coat away and lost his shoes on his way to the kitchen in search for a glass and a bottle of whiskey. Just for a second he considered looking for his gun, although he was sure, he wouldn't find it. He was as certain that he wouldn't go through with it, pulling the trigger. Not anymore. He couldn't stand the thought of Connor finding him with his brains staining the sofa cushions.

Finally he settled on the sofa not caring for turning the lights on and poured himself two fingers of golden liquid. He drank it without a second thought. This day was tradition after all. Drinking himself into oblivion had always been a good part of that.

“Happy tenth birthday.” He murmured into the void, poured another drink and raised the glass to no one at all, before he emptied this one and another after that.

 

He had lost this sense of time in the darkness of the living room, when he heard the front-door being opened.

“Hey, Sumo.”

Low rustling when Connor took his shoes and jacket off. Quiet footsteps on the carpet, until a dark figure appeared in his field of vision. A hand gently took the glass from his own and put it out of his reach on the table.  

“Hank.” Looking up and searching for Connor’s face felt incredibly difficult. His LED glowed red and seemed blurry - the last one was on Hank though.

“Just ignore me and go to sleep.” His tongue felt too big and heavy.

“I don't need to sleep.”

“You’ve seen enough of my pitifulness. Just leave me alone.”

“No.” It was the only answer he got, until Connor sat down next to him.

“You’re one stubborn son of a bitch.”

“I am told this is one of my redeeming qualities.”

“Oh, shut up.”

 

For a time there was nothing but silence between them. Neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just _was_.

“Tell me about him.”

“What?”

“Tell me about Cole. I want to get to know him.”

Hank hesitated, searching Connor’s face for something - something.. he didn’t even know what he was looking for. His expression was soft, not demanding. _You don’t have to. It’s up to you._ It seemed to say. And Hank… Hank just started to talk. Incoherently. About how they never intended to have kids and how they weren’t even sure Hank could father children. About a relatively unproblematic birth that knocked him out anyway. He lost himself in little stories, details.What he had liked to eat. About that one time he ate dog food. What had made him laugh. His bedtime stories. For the time talking it almost felt _real._ As if it had just been yesterday. Until.

Until he was gone.

Until there was nothing more to talk about. Until only emptiness was left and the warm memories were replaced with a cold hard fist in his gut.

“I miss him.” He rubbed his tired eyes, only to find them wet. He was crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he had. At first it were mostly silent tears, streaming down his cheeks and into his beard. Without speaking Connor put his arms around him, pulled him close until Hank buried his face in his shoulder.

“I just miss him.” His voice was hoarse, almost unhearable. Silent tears turned into ugly sobs and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t make them stop.

 

***

 

Hank hated being awoken by daylight. It meant that he hadn’t spent the night in his bed and was therefore usually accompanied by headache, nausea, horrible thirst and an aching back. Unsurprisingly, this day was no different.

Unwilling to open his eyes, he tried to make some sense out of his surroundings. He was halfway draped over something warm, his right arm was slung over it and hung over the edge of the sofa, where Sumo was licking it carefully.

The sudden realisation hit him like a brick wall.

He wasn’t lying on top of some _thing_ , but some _one._ Now he could also remember crying like an infant. He must’ve fallen asleep still holding unto Connor like a drowning man. As if he hadn’t already seen the worst of Hank. This day promised to be amazing.

“Good morning, Hank.”

There went his plan to pretend to be asleep long enough to come up with way to stand up embarrassing himself as little as possible.

“You can’t be fooled at all, can you?” Hank grunted in return and finally opened his eyes. Head bedded on Connor’s shoulder, the first thing in his field of vision was his Adam’s apple. Connor’s arm around Hank’s shoulders moved a little.

“Your blood pressure and breathing change drastically when awake.”

With one ear on Connor’s body his voice sounded slightly different.

“Hm.”

“It was also indicated by the ceasement of your snoring.”

The soft teasing made Hank’s mood shift a little for the better.

“Very funny.” He returned without any real spite.

He should probably get up, before it got weird, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the illusion of this moment. The warmth and secureness. Slowly he pulled his hand from Sumo, who protested quietly and put it on Connor’s chest. He could feel the thirium regulator working under it, but the breathing simulation seemed to be turned off. Suddenly he was hyper aware of Connor’s hand between his shoulder blades.

Hank cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

“Are you a goddamn heater, Connor?”

He felt Connor’s low laugh more than he heard it.

“My normal body temperature is 105 degrees. So yes, you could say that.”

He allowed himself a few more moments of just lying still, until he could no longer ignore the call of his bladder. Slowly and reluctantly he sat up, looking down at Connor. He looked unsure, worried. His LED switched between yellow and blue. A silent _Did I do something wrong?_

He didn’t, of course.

And as if this was the _normal_ thing to do after waking up after crying yourself to sleep in your roommate’s arms, he bowed down again and kissed his forehead.

_What the fuck am I doing here?_

Upright again he realised Connor’s frown had turned into a small smile. Embarrassed he cleared his throat and stood up, mumbling “This old man needs a shower”.

 

***

 

He showered far longer than he had to. As if the water could clear his head and wash away the disputation he had with himself.

He knew he needed to make up his mind. He could either take the leap and risk everything or leave the status quo untouched and lose Connor slowly in the process or waiting until he made a move.

_I’m his friend. If I make a move, I could lose that._

_Maybe he sees you as more than a friend and you’ll lose him by doing nothing._ That voice of his subconsciousness sounded ridiculously like Nancy.

_But why doesn’t he make a move?_

_Fear of rejection._

_Why would he even find me attractive?_

_He literally told you that attraction works different for androids._

_Maybe he sees me as father figure._

_Well, maybe he sees you as a bother figure._

That wasn’t helpful at all.

 

***

 

Wearing shorts, a worn-out bathrobe und a washed-out t-shirt saying _DON’T PANIC_ Hank finally entered the kitchen. While he was a having a crisis under the shower, Connor had obviously walked and fed Sumo and bought breakfast at a nearby diner consisting of scrambled eggs and bacon.

When their living arrangement had begun, Connor had insisted on Hank having breakfast in the morning. When Hank had refused, content with his coffee and a doughnut at the precinct, Connor made the breakfast himself. It had been horrible. Hank hadn’t even known breakfast could taste that bad. He was sure there was some software that could teach Connor to cook, but he seemed to hate cooking as much as Hank hated standing up in the morning. After a week Hank had given in and started to make breakfast for himself - after making Connor promise to never cook anything ever again.

So on special occasions Connor bought breakfast like he had done now.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Hank scolded him, gesturing towards the cooling eggs on the kitchen table.

“I wanted to.”

 

Hank kept standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his belly and watched Connor make coffee. He wore his ‘spare time outfit’: old sweatpants from Hank’s better days and the same white shirt from yesterday, wrinkled after the night on the couch, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie nowhere to be seen. It looked a little weird, but very Connor. He tried to imagine the kitchen without him, this house, but failed miserably. When he finally noticed Hank’s starring, he frowned.

“Are you okay?”

Unresponding Hank lessened the space between them, until he stood directly in front of him, still watching Connor closely.

If Connor was irritated by something he stopped blinking, possibly scanning his counterpart for clues, lips thin if he was dissatisfied with the outcome. Hank had a whole binder in his head full of these little things.

The wrinkle between Connor’s eyebrows got deeper.

“My behavior analysis for you is inconclusive.” He seemed frustrated.

The feeling was entirely mutual.

 

“I’m not good with shit like this.”

Connor’s LED changed into yellow.     

_Don’t fuck this up_ subconscious Nancy said. Still not losing another word he closed the space between them and pulled Connor into a bone breaking hug. One that would stop a human being from breathing. When Connor’s hands settled on his back, relief flooded through him.

“I…” Hank began, realised he no idea what to say next and grimaced. When did he become such a stuttering mess? Eventually he decided on two simple words, murmured against Connor’s hair.

“Thank you.”

_For saving my life. For giving me a new reason to stay alive. For not leaving me. For being here._

There were a lot of other things he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Too many things. After what felt like an eternity, he let go a little, searching Connor’s eyes. Found them hopeful. Warm. Questioning. Uncertain.

_Take a leap._

_Let go._

Instead he went for the middle ground, leaned his forehead against Connor’s , hands on his hips and sighed deeply.

_Coward._

Connor’s hands wandered. They had left his back and came to rest on his shoulders. Fingers touched his neck. His beard.  

“Hank?” Connor’s voice was low and deep, as if speaking too loud would scare him away. Hank didn’t dare to move the slightest inch.

“Hm?”

Connor’s head moved s little, he could almost feel the moving of his lips as he spoke.

“I would like to kiss you.”

Hank blinked surprised, felt warmth creeping up his neck and cheeks. Breathing was really hard all of a sudden. His small laugh was nervous and husky.

“Smooth. Is that supposed to be CyberLife’s flirting software?”

“I didn’t mean to do something inappropriate or unwanted.”

Before he could change his mind again Hank brought their lips on together. Brief. Almost hasty. Afraid to overstep, to overwhelm. A question. A test. Just long enough that he could still remember the feeling later.

Or that’s what he intended to do. Before he could really pull away, Connor’s lips followed him. This wasn’t meant as a question. There was nothing shy or chaste about the way Connor pressed his lips against his, fingers buried in his hair. It stopped every rational thought in Hank’s mind, every little doubt and made his knees weak.

It took Hank’s stomach growling loudly to make them stop, parting just enough that their lips were no longer touching. Connor’s fingers were entwined on his neck. His low chuckling made Hank’s heart miss a beat.

“Sorry.” Hank murmured. Connor kissed him again, slowly, almost teasing. Opened his mouth, only to pull away before Hank could lose himself again.

"Have breakfast. We still have the whole day."

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering: the fic title is an allusion to the the (wonderful) song "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel.
> 
> If you're bored, you can talk with me at tumblr at <http://the-other-bird.tumblr.com> or Twitter (@ItsAnotherBird)


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